Adapt to the dark
by Timingchameleon
Summary: In a world of Madmen and Superhumans, normal people are naturally at the bottom. To avoid getting fed on, you had to be better than normal. To live in the dark, You have to adapt.
1. Chapter 1: Cold

1\. Cold

It was darkness.

_'Cold'_

Then a freezing sensation seeped into the dark. Awareness slowly came to. The cold was felt everywhere. The right side felt... a hard place.

'_Ground, cement._'

Then smell came.

'_Roses?_'

Finally the body linked with the soul. His head moved upwards, and bright brown eyes awoke to the new _world. 'Grey.' _His visage was greeted with a cloudy, sunless sky, the full view blocked by dark buildings on either side. The cold quickly returned to him, and he realized he was naked. no shirt, no shoes, nothing.

'_Cold, so cold_'

It took him a moment to stand up, looking around quickly told him he was in an alley. There was a bouquet of roses by him, but he was very sure those were not for him. What was he sure of? Besides being naked and cold. The stuffy air and walls of concrete. The loud noises that seem to echo all around. He could recognize this was a city but...where?

He looks down the alley to see people and cars bustling about._ 'Help.'_ Seeing no sign of any clothes he makes his choice. He moves down towards civilization. Some jump at the naked man suddenly appearing out of nowhere

'_Cold_'

"Jesus man... you jackin it in crime alley?" A bystander comments, a pencil pusher by the look of it. He moves along like everyone else. Our involuntary nudist feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to a police officer. The mans badges shines in gold:GCPD

"You lost son?" The officer asks. He honestly does not know what to say. _'No sir, just felt_ _like jackin it in public, in fall?'_ With nothing to lose he decides on the truth and nothing but the truth.

"Yes s-sir." He says.

"You have a name son?"

"I c-can't remember sir." The officer has a contemplating look on his face. It would be his day to deal with a public flasher. At the very least, the man in question was being compliant. Rather this, than dealing with clowns or two-faced goons. A breeze swept through the street. The stranger shivers.

'_So cold_'

"Okay, do you know where your cloths are sir?" The policeman asks. The cold nips at the strangers bare skin.

"N-no sir,woke up with n-nothing sir."

" Okay, did you do any drugs son? A stiff drink?"

"I...cant remember sir."

"Okay, so listen.I got a pair of sweats in the police car. I'm gonna bring you down to the precinct. See if we cant figure out what happened to you okay?"

"Yes s-sir."

"For the sake of convenience I will call you John. okay?"

"F-fine with me sir."

The policeman escorts him to the police cruiser. As the officer grabs the sweats 'John' reads the logo on the side of the cruiser.

**Gotham City Police Department**

"Here you go John." The officer hands him the pants. He quickly pulls them on, relieved that at least 'that part' of him was covered.

"T-thank you Officer um?" John pauses.

"Hewitt."

"Thank you officer Hewitt."

'John' gets into the backseat. Hewitt gets in the drivers seat and pulls into traffic. Others may feel an intense fear or dread in the back of a police cruiser. Let alone one in Gotham. For the man we call 'John', he was getting warm again, and didn't have to worry about being in public nude. Hewitt messed with the radio a bit, bit and pieces coming to him in static.

_" Metropolis is still recovering from the recent disaster-"Bzz_

_"If you've inhaled Joker's laughing gas within the last 5 years, you may be entitled to compensation"BZzz_

_"The Queen recovery bill will be going into effect-"Bzz_

_"The coldest september we have had for at least two decades. All im saying is bundle up people!"bzzz_

_"Queen Diana states their should be no concern of war between-"Bzzzzz_

_"All I am saying is how long do we tolerate vigilantes, when the police are making no efforts themselves?"Bzzzzz_

* * *

The Gotham City Police station was having a calmer day than usual. This was strange. Even with the Batmans efforts to reduce it, Gotham City fluctuated in the crime rates with the worst of them. Bank robberies were the minimum. The minimum. If there was not a group of hooligans and/or doped up Maniacs, it was un-ironically strange day.

"Anything on our friend here, Ben?" Officer Hewitt asks for the second time that day. 'John' had been nothing but compliant, save for the fact he didn't know anything. He offered no resistance or questions when they asked for saliva and blood samples.

Wayne-techs support to the police department has been a literal lifeline. Offering state of the art machines for criminal investigations. There were files for everyone. Standard documents, criminal records, past and present identities, the usual, except put into overdrive. It was all very thorough, more so in Gotham. When you lived in the city of the Bat, you had to look at all angles. No corners were cut. At least in that area.

"Nothing Mitch. No ID in any state, hell nothing on a nationwide search. His drug test came clean. No Joker or Scarecrow toxins. Not even that Venom knockoff steroid from that college football scandal a year or so back." Ben pulls up another page on the computer. "Which amazes me, The guy is fit, Really fit. I am talking Olympian athlete."

It didn't add up to Hewitt. He got a better look at the guy than he wanted to. While his wandering, confused state fit that of a druggie, there were no hints of substance abuse. No pink eyes, no scars on his arm from shooting up. he's slim, but like a professional swimmer. If he's homeless he should be starving or dirty. Not fit, not fresh as a baby.

"But no ID?"

"No. Sorry Mitch." Ben pulls up another page. "If the guy is homeless, without any ID or birth certificate. There's not much we can do."

Hewitt looks out to the waiting area, 'John' is sitting on a waiting chair calmly. He wore a generic grey hoody with his pants now, supplied by Sharon at the desk. She had a soft spot for the pitiful. The guy's hands were in his pockets. Hewitt is pretty sure he hasn't moved from that spot since he sat there. He grumbles softly.

"Shit."

* * *

'John' sits in the waiting area by the front desk as he was told. The police were patient with him through this ordeal. They had him go through the usual. Thumb prints, blood test, mouth swab. They were finally done with tests once he gave them the urine sample. Once done they told him to wait while he is run through the system. He can see Officer Hewitt talking with his coworker in another office.

The front desk lady, Sharon, is nice though. She gave him a generic hoody to wear. It was probably more to cover up his indecency, than keeping him warm. He was given a generic pair of slip-ons, probably to keep his feet a tad warmer. It was thin material, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Other police officers are bustling about. Some are casually going to and fro. Probably office jockeys. Others are in a rush, he occasionally sees someone in cuffs getting escorted in. Officer Hewitt just kept him close when he was escorted in. For that he was grateful.

Said man was making his way to him now.

Officer Hewitt had a grimace on his face, likely about to bring bad news to him. 'John' just hoped he wasn't some master criminal, or some horrible violator that required immediate execution. He couldn't help but fear that the officer didn't just snap. Waiting till he got closer. Either taking a baton out to bash him unconscious, or just pulling out that beretta holstered on his waist.

He did neither.

"John, come with me for a minute." 'John' complied without question. getting up, he follows the officer to an unused desk. whether it was his or a different officers he didn't know. Hewitt gestures to a seat. After 'John' sits Hewitt takes a seat across from him.

"Now John," Officer Hewitt begins. "Before I start I need to ask again: Are you absolutely certain you do not remember anything?"

"No sir. I just remember being cold, than waking up to that alley." The officer Grimaces again.

"Well John, this isn't good for several reasons. The one good thing is that your likely the victim in this case, also due to you're situation you are not being charged with public indecency. You do not have a criminal record of any kind either. But, that also leads to the bad part." Hewitt stops for a moment, seeing he still has his attention continues.

"You have no records of any kind John. Nothing. No birth certificate, no records of any kind. It is like you just...appeared. Now in this city we are no stranger to weird situations, believe me. Much more shocking and unbelievable thing have occured in this city alone. Unfortunately this doesn't help you in the legal sense at all. You are not under arrest, but we really cannot do more for you."

'_Nothing, You are nothing._'

"Oh." His response is simple, solemn. He looks down at his lap. its quiet for a minute. The fingers typing on keyboards and ringing phones drown the silence. Finally he looks up. "Thank you for what you've done for me so far sir. where do we go from here?"

"The next best thing to do is to get you up to speed. There is a public library not far from here. It should still be open for a few more hours. You are free to go right now, but maybe-" Officer Hewitt stops to the sound of laughter. Its a chilling discomforting noise that breaks through the door. Several heavily geared officers slam through the entrance. They are struggling with men garbed in gaudy purple and green. White makeup paints their faces crudely. The men were in the dozens, with double the number of police surrounding them. In spite of that fact many are resisting viciously, trying to break free. several are slammed into the ground. They laugh obnoxiously and carefree, a few quiet down with smacks. Others laugh harder.

'_Oh, that's interesting_'

"We need everyone on deck! These fuckin clowns are dosed up. get them in lockup!" A particular 'clown' Chuckles.

"No please, eat some donuts and build up your strength. The pork loins will only be sweeter!" He was the only one not struggling. Purple dyed hair and smeared makeup adorned him. Scars adorned his bodybuilder frame. His muscle accentuated by the dirty ripped tank top, jeans splattered with green and purple dye complimented his clown look. He got a hard smack to the jaw for his comment.

"Shut the fuck up bozo!"

"Sergeant!" A gruff older looking man comes into the room. 'John' thought he came out of some noir comic. Short cropped white hair and a well trimmed mustache. Rimmed glasses covered the mans eyes. The classic detective look, white button up shirt with dark vest, was covered by a beige long coat. The man carried a presence, one of authority and respect earned long ago.

"Everyone get the detainees into the brig, these 'men' aren't getting out for a long time."

"So same time next week Gordon?" 'Bozo' remarked,blood trickling from his lip down his chin. The officer reared up for another smack, but Gordon raised his hand, mouthing "no". The clowns on the floor were pushed back upright, and escorted down. Bozo caught a glimpse of 'John' as he passed. He bares a bloody smile at him, gazing with eyes that seem to almost glow green, before disappearing into the cell area. 'John' hears the clowns starting up again, and breathes once the doors are shut.

"Guess its another day with the GCPD."

"What the hell are they on? That diluted Venom strain hitting the streets again?."

With Officer Hewitt occupied, he had to make his time count. He gets up from the desk, legs a bit wobbly from the sudden and bizarre experience. He passes Gordon, who is talking with another cop. He catches the name Bollock. Gordon doesn't spare a glance and he walks out of the police station. The fresh air is nice.

* * *

The fresh air grew colder as the day moved forward in time. The bustling crowds withered. The sun was settling into an orange dye, it would bleed red not much longer, followed by cool colors into black.

The walk to the library was easy enough. Some vendors on the street were kind enough to point him in the right direction. One was nice enough to turn him around as he walked right passed it, warning him to get off the street before dark. "Gotham is a different animal at night" The man had said. 'John' had to believe the man, as the number of people on the streets were thinning out steadily.

The Gotham Library was one of the oldest buildings in the city. With it gothic architecture it was hard to miss. 'John' missed it anyway. He wanted to kick himself after realizing it the first time. Entering the building as many others were heading out, the library was a tad more barren. There were some leftover students packing in more study-time. A redhead, neatly dressed was manning the returns desk. Taking a seat at a computer desk he hesitated for a moment. He looks towards another person using a computer and tries to emulate it. He moves the mouse around. Seeing the pointer on the screen respond, he tries clicking on the planet symbol. A web browser pops up. The key board spoke for itself.

He decides to search 'Gotham' first. Many results come in, restaurant locations, upcoming events, Batman sightings.

_Wait, Batman?_ This peaked his curiosity too much. He enters 'Batman' into the search bar. He gets EVERYTHING. Images, Police reports made public, the guy has sidekicks. 'John' might have amnesia, but he feels, no, knows this is not the norm. The positive was this Batman guy was at least working with police. Apparently a crooks worst nightmare. He notices another image.

'_Who's the guy in tights? Is that an S?_'

_1 hour later_

'_This is too much_. 'John' pushed away from the computer. Resting his head in his hands he tries to breath. He could barely process the information he got from this short time alone.

A bat vigilante. A man that flies, able to bench press a warship. Another that could move faster than the human eye could process. Than there was a literal nation of amazons, albeit an island but still recognized on its own. The lost city of Atlantis? Bird people! and this was just scratching the surface. The goddamn surface of the planet that is. He had to stop at the mention of an intergalactic police force._ 'Or forces.'_

The one good part, these 'supers' are spread around the globe for the most part. The bad part, you could not get away from it. Even worse, he is in Gotham. The criminals here seem a level above the usual. Organized crime was apparently always present here. Even his brief search told him that much. If those clowns were anything to go by, however, its only gotten worse. Gotham was home to the loonies, but that doesn't make it invasion proof. Some of what he'd seen, horrors from both above the sky, in the sea, or even under the ground. How these people constantly move on, tread forward, he can't even begin-

"Excuse me sir, library is closing." A soft voice comes from behind him. He whips his head around fast. His eyes greet a well dressed woman, long red hair pinned up. '_Wow, she's pretty._' His face eases into a sheepish smile.

"Of course. Thank you." he says. She looks past him, looking past his computer screen. Her eyes skim over the article he was on. She looks back at him.

"Crazy isn't it? I have a hard time believing it myself, sometimes.

"You ever get used to it?"

"I practically grew up around it. Yet at some point, I'll see Superman on the news. Or spot that bat signal in the sky. It still amazes and frightens me." She has a fond look on her face in spite of this. Like remembering a brighter point in her life. A childhood memory? His heart sinks ever so slightly. He tried remembering something, anything the moment he was clothed and warm.

Nothing came, a few images, brief moments like snapshots. Filtered too brightly or saturated too darkly for any coherent memory. No face or voice really stood out. Unless he tries to focus, it sinks into the back of his mind. Down the drain, like it was never there to begin with.

"A neverending thrill?" He inquired, curious about those who have seen these living myths firsthand at some point. Those who can remember.

Whether they want to or not.

"In some ways, sadly more people tend to abuse their power. You can't ever underestimate them. Even the 'street-level' ones." Her head is a little down, and her hands grip the armrests tightly. So distracted by the sudden conversation he didn't notice the wheelchair. He wants to ask her how, why? He wanted to, but he won't. It wasn't appropriate. He had no right.

"I've seen some examples today myself. But please, pardon me, you must want to go home yourself." He shuts off the computer. Giving her a wave he moves to the exit. She calls out to him.

"Be careful out there." She said. He turns to her and smiles.

"Will do." Moving through the exit. The cold air greeted him. The Library's old lanterns light his path. A distant thundering grabs his attention and looks outward. He sees the night sky and, noticing the stormy clouds, curses walking down the _path. 'A storm? shit.' _He was warned more often than not to be off the streets. But now he was here, and he had no home to return to. He knew this the moment Officer Hewitt broke the bad news. He was a literal nobody, a ghost. If someone cares, or cared, they may be long gone. They may have arrived at the police station after he left. Maybe they are the reason he can't remember. His head was starting to hurt.

He sees a public park, one of the entrance lights flickering. He had no better options, at worst he lays under a tree. Maybe a playground is around. His brain draws up images of brightly colored tubes and. little hiding spots.

A scream breaks him out of thought. He. gets off the path, into the dark. He, softly jogs alongside the path. Following the direction he heard the noise from. Trees start covering his view. Another scream Pushes him into a sprint. He jumps behind a tree as he hears feet coming his direction. Scooping up a baseball sized rock he peaks around the tree. A woman comes into view quickly. bare feet muddied. She is immediately grabbed by a hooded figure.

"Gotcha!" He cheers, his arms around her waist tight. She is still screaming. He throws her into a tree knocking the air out of her lungs. Two other hooded men quickly come to view.

"Goddamn don't break her too quick Chris. She ain't that young" The second one says. restraining her.

"She wouldn't shut up. Don't need more people here and shit, Fuckin superman hears it or somethin."

"Hey now, We have three solutions for gagging her." They tore open her jacket

'_No_'

Whoever he is, or was, he's not gonna watch that happen. She was trying to struggle, failing to break free. The man ripped open her blouse, exposing her bare to the world.

"Aah yeah-" As he reaches out John threw the baseball sized rock. He was aiming for the guys head. He didn't expect it to actually hit. It slugs the right in his ear, it send him tumbling to the ground, swearing obscenities. Johns already running towards the group. He trips the hood that was suppose to be watching out. Reaching 'Chris' he knees the man in the face, just getting up from the rock. Nose busted, he lands on his back again.

John turns to receive a punch. The second man dropped the woman to wail on John. John is punched twice more, before he returns an uppercut. He can see woman getting up. The third man comes at him from the side,punching him in the ribs. John is slammed into a tree, punched several times while he's dazed. As he rears up for another John dodges his head. He barely misses the punch but most of the force hits the tree. The man yelps before John kicks him away.

The second man socks John in the jaw, he turns to block another hit before the third comes back again with the another punch. They were sloppy, but had numbers on John. Two arms wrap around Johns waist, and Chris bodyslams him into the walkway. The wind is knocked out of him as he coughs for air.

"About time you fuckin baby."

"Shut up, the bitch got away." Chris wipes at his mouth, the blood flowing freely from his mouth and nostrils. "Why the fuck didn't you two wrap this up faster. Fuck!"

"Its this fuckin guy, ruining the goddamn night. Motherfuckin- fuck-" A foot lodges itself in Johns stomach. it retracts as another hits him in the back. The men kick John repeatedly, viciously. A foot comes toward his face. His head snaps back viciously. The men stop, he can't comprehend why. Only seeing a cloaked figure engulf his vision. His soul returns to the dreamworld.

* * *

Gotham was cold at night. The rain is cold as it free falls downward on the dark city. It quenches some, drowns others. The rain will relieve some, freeze others. It offers chilling discomfort to the woman trudging through it, and mild comfort to the body she is dragging.

This time it is the cold and the pain that awakens him. He heaves a breath before sputtering a cough. Everything hurts.

" -lright, come on." Grunting catches his attention, he can feel himself getting dragged. Movement stops for a moment, before resuming. Fear comes first, until he realizes the grunts were light, feminine. Only a pair of arms were pulling him, slim arms, soft.

"Come on you, don't die yet." The voice confirms a woman is dragging him. Where to he didn't know. He wasn't exactly fat, but he could tell she was struggling. She would pause her dragging of his useless hide, before taking a deep breath and pulling him along again.

He'd help her if he could, but his body wasn't listening. He couldn't see as it is, vision was blurry, distorted. The lights he could see hurt, keeping his eyes shut more often than not. Attempts to move his arms ended with a burning sensation trying to force unresponsive muscles to move. His legs were moving, but not in any direction he wanted them to.

He felt her stop, getting a breath in, then pulling him upwards. He felt his feet hitting steps. after a small struggle to drag him they rested on a flat surface again. He heard her bang on a door. The heavy frame rattled.

"Father, its me, let us in!" To his barely coherent mind those doors sounded thick for a house. There were a lot of steps too. He can barely comprehend the idea of a rich lady rescuing him. He lost consciousness before vision would return to him. Before he would realize the woman saving him was, in fact, the one he saved. Her clothing still torn. He would only see the door opening with a golden light. Another dark figure in the doorway.

"Come child. We must get him in." The kindly pastor grabbed our dear 'John'. Together he, and the woman John had kindly rescued, pulled him into the church. The oak doors rattled as they shut once more,leaving Gotham in the dark. His lost consciousness with a simple thought.

_'Cold'_


	2. Chapter 2: Name

2\. Name

The train practically hugged the mountain as it zoomed among lush countryside. Within the cabin, Cassandra sat at the window, taking in the vivid landscape. She watched the overgrowth among the trees. The animals that moved through bushes in escape and pursuit of each other. Wolfs chasing deer and doe. Rabbits evading the sly fox.

Her eyes moved at the sound of another entering the cabin. An older lady pushing a trolley. The lady smiled at her, but continued on. Cassandra made it clear earlier, kindly mind you, that she wanted to be left alone. She was the only occupant in this part of the train, more out of simple convenience than actual choice. She preferred it to crowds anyway. There were very few she would bother associating with, even now.

The thought pushes her to check her burner phone. Tim insisted she have something to keep in contact. She accepted it, although not contacting them directly, it gave her a sense of belonging... of family. Few had her number. She could know who almost right away by the message alone. She pulled the phone out of the duffel bag between her feet. Booting it up, she smiled as she read Tim's message.

**"Titans managed to stop Cinderblock in his tracks. Guy almost derailed a freight train. Still backpacking in Europe?"**

Tim was one of the more consistent ones. He often just asked how she was, what she was doing or seeing. Otherwise he made small talk of the Titans activities. Barbara kept her messages minimum, though she promised to update her if anything about David King came up. Richard seemed insistent on sending her the occasional 'safe' photos of friends and outgoings, and internet jokes. Memes? Not sure what they were or even how to pronounce it. In spite of that a simple smile or frown would suffice for Richard.

Bruce... did not contact her at all. Being who he was, however, that made sense. He did tell her, in person, She was welcome to return to Gotham. That there would always be a place for her there. Even Richard mentioned that she was welcome in Bludhaven. He compared it to Gotham, more or less, definitely not better.

Perhaps soon she would settle somewhere. If for a time. Not now though, she was still just wandering. She did not want to work with a team like the Titans either. Right now she wanted to avoid fighting. She wanted time to think. No one telling her to fight or kill.

She typed a response to Tim. Her smile disappearing as soon as it had arrived. The train zoomed into a tunnel, engulfing the cabin in blackness.

* * *

_Soft_

Soft, like sheets. His brain must have been scrambled like eggs if the ground felt like this. No, this must be heaven. He was gracefully rewarded in the afterlife for getting beaten to death. On second thought, _Where is god? why does my body hurt. Dear god my body hurts._

He attempts to speak. His throat is dry and his voice barely escapes his mouth. One eye opens, the other remains dark. Looking around he sees slate grey walls. A window is on his left. Although he can't see it, he sees the rays of light hitting the wall on his right. The sunlight shines a bronze cross hanging on the wall, right besides the door.

Attempting to move sends pain to his ribcage. he barely got a few inches up before his nerves flared. He tries to even his breathing. He must have made noise, as the door opens. The man that walks in seems nicely kept. Dark hair was combed back, a White dress shirt properly buttoned with black slacks.

"Good. You have awoken. We thought you would be out for much longer." The man rolls up his sleeves and takes a seat on his right. He presses a hand to his 'patients' forehead. "No fever it seems, but how are you actually feeling?"

"Pain." He manages to croak out. The stranger gets up.

"My apologies, let me get you some water." The man seems to disappear through the door. He can hear him somewhat in the other room. "Audrey darling, can you wake Belle? Let her know her rescuer is conscious." The man returns with a cup and a gallon sized serving glass. He sets it down on the table. He reaches out, putting one hand behind 'John' to gently tilt his head forward.

The water is cool. An oasis of relief, he can feel the tightness in his throat loosen substantially. The dry feeling in his mouth disappears, and his body feels rejuvenated, if only a bit better than before. The man pulls the cup back.

"More?" he inquires.

"Please sir." 'John' responds, as he takes in the mans features. He was certainly older, but no more than his late thirties. He has small lines on his face, but nothing to imply early aging. The man fills the cup again, and resumes.

"Please, sir makes me feel older than I already am. You can call me Father Duncan or just Duncan, if you feel so."

At that moment a woman rushes into the room. She stops as she is past the doorway. 'John' can recognize the woman almost immediately from the night before. _'She's ok."_ She wears a different top now. A T-shirt with a jean jacket. Her dark blonde hair is disheveled, as she had just woken up.

"Father, how is he?" She asks timidly.

"Alive and aware Belle, praise god." Duncan responds. he looks over to 'John'. "Recognize her? She saved your life."

"After he saved mine, a stupid move. But he did." She wrapped her arms around herself, looking at him. "Thank you"

Duncan frowned at her. "Should he have left you to your fate, with those vile heathens?"

"They had him three to one. They damn near beat him to death, and for what? A _whore_?"_ 'How does that justify what they were going to do to you?_

"Perhaps this is a sign. You are better than that. Leave that life dear." Duncan argues, calmly. _'Thank you Duncan.' _It was hard to get his voice out, thankfully Duncan filled in. This sounded like a song and dance played before. They sounded like friends, at the very least. She smiled, but it was a sad smile.

"You know that's not happening." She responds. 'John' mumbles words at her. Both pause to look at him. "What's up? What are you saying."

"don't...regret it...you...worth it." Her cheeks reddened, Hearing the first words come out of her saviour's mouth. Hearing someone claim she was of value, someone like her.

"You wouldn't say that if you knew the people I hang around... where I have been."

"Doesn't...matter... you don't... deserve... that."

"Belle, you put yourself too low. How many would come back for a stranger? Drag them through rain to get them shelter?" _'Exactly!'_

"I'm just lucky you were home. He is lucky he didn't die of exposure." _'That too!'_ "We are not even sure if his eye will be okay."

" I will change his bandages soon, we will find out then. And now that he is speaking, perhaps we can find answers." He looks to 'John'.

"What is your name?"

_'Oh' _

What would he tell them? What can he tell them? _"I am nobody. Nice to meet you!" _They were looking at him now, and he was starting to feel anxiety build up. _'You were honest with the cop, and he got you cloths and a place to get info. Why lie to the religious man of all people?' _Deciding with no other option, he once again decides to wing it.

"I don't...remember...police called me...John..for...convenience." Duncan's brow furrowed.

"The police called you John? They didn't find a file for you?"

"None...existed...anywhere." He can hear Belle inhale hard. Duncan frowns.

"How long ago was this? how long have you not remembered?"

"Yesterday." Duncan breathes deeply. He lays a hand on 'John's good shoulder.

"Truly a lost soul, and of all places Gotham." Duncan says gently gripping his Shoulder. "And to be beaten so savagely for doing what's right

"Like I said...She didn't..deserve it." His voice was slowly but surely getting stronger. Words were flowing easier.

"Well for now We can shelter you, at the least to let you recover."

"Hold up," Belle jumps into the conversation again. " He deserves a name. A REAL name. I know way too many 'Johns', And he is definitely not a John."

"That is true, but in due time. I know it would not be in print, but we can try to find a name for you." Duncan " Would you like that?"

"Yes...please.." 'John feels his voice start to slur. His eyelid feel heavier with each blink. "Thank-"

* * *

Duncan's patient falls to sleep mid sentence. He simply pulls the covers back over him properly. He turns to Belle.

"It doesn't make sense." She starts immediately. "Even I know the leaps and bound technology has made. I've been to the precinct myself once or twice. But he has nothing? Not one file? In Gotham? Hell the world?!"

"Belle calm." He starts. Then motions them to leave the room. Duncan shuts the door as he exits. They walk through the hall. "There are still many in this world with no name to call their own. He is not unique in that regard. "He is healing fast, a bit too fast. Compared to what you brought in last night, he shouldn't even be awake."

"So what are you gonna do?" Belle

"What I said I would, let him recover. Hopefully find him a name. The police called him John? Like John Doe?"

"There are plenty of names Father, lets give him one that doesn't blend with the crowd?" She looks at him again. "Besides that, he saved my life. I don't want to associate him with my clientele." They entered a small kitchen area. Belle walked over to lean by the sink.

"I was serious Belle. You do not have to live that life. I know its a struggle-"

"Duncan, please. The people I know... I put myself in a bad spot. Even before last night... I'll have to show my face eventually." She turned around, laying her palms on the aging counter. " It was just another night on the job, they just weren't interested in paying." Duncan grimaces. A heavy sigh come from his lips.

"I'll never try to control you Belle. I know you have the power, but I'll drop it for now. We need to find a name for our new friend. Let me find my book."

"The Bible?"

"The one." Finding it, he picks up his long read and worn copy of the Bible. His brow creases in thought, and he looks at her " Would Moses be too blunt?"

"How about Jesus?"

"You are hilarious." He deadpans.

* * *

He awakes with a start a few hours later. He is able to pull himself upright, the pain receding, but still present. The skin on his back shows patterns of dark blue and purple. Looking to the side he can see clothing he received from the police yesterday. He touches the blind side of his face, feeling bandages around his eye. The medical tape wrapped around his cranium holding it in place.

Grunting, he pulls the blanket off, rotating himself slowly. His feet touch carpeted flooring, sucking in a breath, he stands upright. A sigh of relief escapes him when he doesn't collapse in pain. He winces a bit stepping over to the shelf.

There were small signs of damage from the beating, but the fabric felt freshly washed. Grabbing the pants and hoodie he went back to the bed. He dealt with his pants first, struggling slightly to get a foot in. When this was done he went for his hoodie. When finally dressed, he Reaches over to the glass of water left on the bedside. Its downed in a single go.

Getting up from the bed, he stepping towards the doorway. Hearing voices down the hall he walks slowly and quietly towards them. As he gets closer, he can make out Duncan and Belle's voices.

"-about Simon? Wouldn't be a bad fit."

"Boring and nerdy."

"Joseph?"

"I don't feel it."

"What do you feel?"

"...Judas?"

"Belle, come on now." He steps into the entryway. Duncan and Belle are sitting at a small table in a barren looking kitchen. Both are nursing cups of coffee. Belle was about to sip as she spotted him. Her eyes widened.

"Jesus!"

"Belle that's- oh wow. You're awake." Duncan gets up from the table. " Surprised you are up, how are you feeling?"

" A...bit better." The pause is more from hesitation now. He looks to Belle. "I might have a passing resemblance, but I don't think the 'Messiah' would appreciate it." Duncan interjects here.

"I believe he would forgive, but find a better name for you. Come, sit. Coffee?" He takes the closest seat, by Duncan. It was not preference for one or the other. If not for either he could be in a severe situation, even dead. He certainly trusted both at a level equal to Officer Hewitt. Thinking back on the man, and the city he protected, Hewitt treated him very well. It probably helped that he was the farthest thing from a clown.

"Yes, please." Duncan got up and walked over to the counter for a cup. Belle moved closer While Duncan was pouring brew. He hair was more properly combed now, pulled into a loose ponytail.

"We have been looking for a name that fits you." She said. "We've been looking through the Bible- "

"By that she means I suggest a name, and she shoots it down." Duncan sets the cup in front of him. "If you don't mind. I would like to take those bandages off you're face. See how you're eye is doing?" Looking down with his good eye, he instead asks Duncan:

"Why? why do this for me? Why the effort?" Duncan looks at him, there is no hesitation.

"It is the right thing to do." Duncan says. He can't accept that

"I am a stranger. You don't know me." He voices it as such.

"I'm pretty sure you did not know Belle. Yet last night, you threw yourself against the odds, just to give her a chance. There are few men I know of in this city that would do that. Not a single one of them are monsters."

"I could very well be one." He was on the cold floor of a dark alley for a reason, any reason. For all he knew, the 'Batman' was out there looking for him now. Yet last night, that shadow..

"No, sorry but no." Belle interjects, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Do not think I forgot what you said a few hours back. If you were a monster, you wouldn't say that, not as you were."

"If you were, perhaps the lord took your memory as a blessing. A chance to do things better."

"Maybe..."

"Well maybe we can get you a name so that we can call you something? Besides John?" He didn't forget her reason to dislike calling him John. Even as officer Hewitt made it for the sake of convenience, he could still recognize the term John Doe. It came up enough during his internet 'surf'. He'd rather have a name for him, a name meant for _somebody_. He decided to poke fun at Belle.

"Sure, how about Simon?" He said.

"Again. Would you like that bandage off?" Duncan brings up again. He nods. "Alright hold still now." Duncan gently pulls off the bandage covering his eye. Once it is off, he realizes he can still see. It hurts a little, and he's squinting a bit. Better than losing an eye.

"Well look at that, The swelling stopped entirely..." Duncan did not say more. "From what I remember last night. You are very fortunate."

"Fortunate... blessed...!" With a sudden zeal Belle starts coming through some papers. Yanking out a specific sheet, her eyes scroll down before she Jabs her finger down.

"Asherel, meaning fortunate, lucky."

"Fitting Belle, But somewhat strange to tell people. Do you see Asher?" Duncan inquires. Her eyes scroll down, must have been a list.

"Asher, happy, blessed." She looks at him. "How do you feel about this name?"

"I...like it...I really like it." Him

"We can even call you Ash for short." Belle quips. "Hail to the king baby." She and Duncan share a laugh, he doesn't quite understand, but he can't help but laugh too.

* * *

_4 weeks later_

"_Sorry, uh, Ash was it? We are not hiring."_

_"What, job? you got no papers, I will be in more trouble than you!"_

"_No_."

"_I can't write a check to nobody. Doesn't matter what you call yourself. Pen. Ink."_

"_Not hiring_."

"_Sorry friend, try the guys across the street_."

"_Yeah sorry friend, how about the Guys across the street_?"

"_You seem like a nice guy but..."_

Jesus, that last one sounded like a bad second date. Thing is he didn't even get the first interview. Another day, another bust. Officer Hewitt didn't lie to him. It was gonna get much harder from here on out.

Pulling his hood over, and zipping his worn jacket tight, Asher headed back to the church. The coat was made of a jean-like material, donated to him by Father Duncan. It slipped over his bland hoody just fine.The church became a sanctuary for him courtesy of Father Duncan. It was not a permanent shelter, The City would crack down on the Father fast for harbouring homeless. It was enough of a risk he took allowing Asher to recover, even for the week. He would have to depend on Libraries that remained open overnight most days of the week. He would get kicked out if he slept however, so he didn't risk it, too often at least.

Once Asher recovered, he set out to find a job. It was easier said than done, the last three weeks he set out to find work. Each place denied him, it was easy to see why. No form of ID, no bank account, it was a risk on them more often than not. He couldn't blame them, but it didn't feed him.

He entered the Church as the sun set. He went passed the prayer area, heading downstairs. He gave a smile and wave to Sister Audrey as she passed. The Sisters would question him, had he been anyone else. Duncan gave him his trust, so they did as well. He would be eyed at first, but he became a normal sight over the last three weeks.

It was the sound of hard impacts that leas him to Duncan, not that he needed it. The father was in sweatpants and a tank top, his Church cloths set aside. He gave the punching bag a three hit combo, sending it upward before falling back now. The heavy chain rattled as the bag swayed. Duncan looked over as he grabbed his water bottle.

"Asher, Good to see you." Duncan says as he takes a swig of water. Asher's Jacket and hoodie are shedded, leaving him in a tank top.

"Father, you get started without me?" Asher says as he puts on his own pair of fingerless gloves.

"Come now, just warming up. Ready for some one one one?" Duncan asks.

"You bet." Asher says, the two men take their positions in the center of the room.

Belle told Asher that Duncan used to be army, and a part of the boxing club. She pestered Duncan to teach him self defense. Once he properly healed, Duncan agreed. At least every other day, Asher was taught basic CQC. Duncan had been out of the military for some time. While he may not have been a professional boxer, he held his own.

Asher figured he had to in this city. He learned a lot from Duncan, and he learned fast. The two could spar confidently, enough to hold small talk as they started.

"So how did the search go?" Duncan sent a strike. Asher blocked, attempting to throw a counter-punch. It was blocked. Asher backed off.

"Same, 'you're a nice guy, but no.'" He came back at duncan with two low hits. Duncan ducked and weaved, before returning the favor. Asher pulled back.

"A shame, are the construction guys giving you temp work?" Duncan asked, fists back up in a defensive position. Asher was able to find work in some of the construction sites aroun Gotham. They offered shifts for the day, pay at the end, cash only. If it was illegal, people weren't doing much about it. It got Asher some cash for food, so he wasn't mooching off of Duncan's good will all the time.

The two circled each other.

"They shut down today. Its getting too cold."

"I'm sorry to hear that." They moved.

forty-five minutes later both are sitting, letting their bodies recover. Duncan offers Asher a second water bottle. He took a swig before speaking.

"I walked by the shelters, people are getting turned away."

"Already? The Wayne foundation can't get that bill passed fast enough." Duncan wiped his brow with a hand towel.

"Will it help in the long run? I can't remember much still, but the planet seems to get not so friendly visitors more often than not." Invasions from hostile species occured before, and Asher had no doubt he'll see the next soon enough. Metropolis may have been a hotspot, but everyone was effected at some point.

"We cannot afford to do nothing. I wish I could do more here, but my hands are tied."

"You took me in when I needed it. I know you do what you can." He took a sip of water. "How does a man of the cloth know how to box?" Duncan almost smirked at him.

"I grew up in a different City, New York, although it can be argued that Gotham is worse. More or less the same to me, just some carjackers like face paint. Hells kitchen is where I grew up, dad was apart of the boxing club. Naturally I learned how to fight. I was pretty aggressive in my youth, but I learned where to watch it. Mobsters had their fingers in the piles like anybody else." He began bagging his workout gear.

"Not much later I joined the army, wanted to get out. I joined my bases Boxing club, spent what time I had there. Served four years, saw enough. I came home, became a man of cloth, and now I am here."

"You have to deal with the clowns ever?"

"Once or twice. I handled them. You need to shower friend, you know the way, go."

* * *

It was twenty minutes later, cleaned and redressed that Asher sat at a pew. He was reading a worn paperback lent to him by Duncan. 'Lord of the flies', interesting enough.

"Finished it yet?" Duncan asked, properly dressed and combed. You wouldn't have matched him with the boxer seen only a half -hour or so ago.

"Actually already did, rereading for better context." Asher replied.

"Good to know you enjoy it, here." Asher catches a thrown package. Its just some fiber bars, but its food.

"Duncan, you can't-"

"Yes I can, I cannot house everyone, but I will give to those in need."

"I-Thank you." Asher admires the soft candle glow illuminating the Church. "I don't know how I will ever repay what you've done for me."

"You can start by never giving up. It is rough out there, you don't need a seer to tell you it will get rougher, but I know you can persevere."

"Thank you Father. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Asher."

Asher leaves the church in a better mood than before. He chows on a fiber bar as he walks down the street. He relishes each bite, as he couldn't know for sure when the next time he eats comes.

He looks up at Gotham's tall buildings, The skyscrapers built among Gothic architecture. Sometimes, the night seemed to bleed a menacing red. Ironically that might bring people in for the view, the rich that is. They were probably in those tall buildings now, late meetings, early parties. Their worries were from from the concerns of gutteral trash.

He didn't blame them, despite that, at least not generally. He was sure for every Bruce Wayne there was an opposite. A serpent in human skin, making life better for those whose lives were already better. Those who walk over the downtrodden.

He made his way to an underside bridge, where some tents were set up. He became familiar with some of the homeless communities in this city. Most were good people, their luck throwing them overboard at the worst time. Some did delve into drugs, yes, but plenty didn't start out like that.

The crying got his attention immediately. He quickened his pace over to the dark haired woman crying outside her tent. The little girl beside her, got up and ran into Asher's legs. Dress in a worn and torn dark blue coat, she didn't cry, but her sad face looked up at Asher.

"Mistah Ash, please help mommy. She is crying again." Asher picked up the six-year old, resting her on his hip.

"Did daddy make June upset again Sara?"

"You're damn right he did." The woman, June, sniffed. "Devin was getting better, WE were getting better. Than he gets himself fired again. doped up on the job. Now his stupid ass is blacked out in the tent."

Devin and June Patterson were among the first he got acquainted with in this city. Devin was a well payed businessman some years back. He took the fall for a botched product, lost everything. June was a stay at home mother, the carpet pulled from under them. Their daughter, Sara, got her mom's looks but dad's blonde hair. She met him first. She went to him in the library, she held up a book asking him:

"Can you tell me what this book is about? Mama don't have time."

June came over of course, apologizing to him. A conversation was struck, and that's how he learned of the temp work the construction sites were offering. He met Devin than, who was not a bad man, but certainly made bad choices. Asher would shelter with them and find temp work with Devin. He was a good worker, from what Asher saw. Last time they spoke Devin found something steady, make enough to get off the streets.

Now they were here.

"Damn, I'm so sorry June, what was he doing? for his job I mean?"

"It was so goddamn simple, he was cheap maintenance, the Red Light District. He could have worked his way up. Instead he got high, made a mess...fucking idiot bastard." That wasn't good, Winter is practically here. Their tent won't be enough.

"I'm sorry June, do you think they could be hiring still?" Looking at him, she wipes her eyes.

"What will you do? apply?"

"Honestly, yes. The cold is gonna settle in, I won't let you freeze." Asher pulls out his package of bars Duncan gave him. "Here, ration these. I'm gonna go. Red light District? around there?"

"Now? Ash they are gonna throw you out!"

"June I can take no for an answer, but I gotta try. You can't stay on these streets, Sara can't I... can't afford to do nothing." He gives Sara a brief hug. "Goodnight, stay warm with your mom tonight okay?"

"Okay Mistah Ash. Night night."

The air is getting colder. It's his steady pace that keeps him warm. Snow has no fallen yet, but the leaves are long dead, grounded into cement. Into nothingness. Asher isn't ignorant, he knew what Red Light District meant. It was a hotzone for criminal activity, prostitutes and drugs, usually both. Black markets and gambling not far behind.

Asher couldn't house every single homeless person he has met, but he could help them. June and Sara were special, he couldn't deny it. Temperatures were already records low this fall. He could have froze to death had he stayed naked. Than good people helped him. He couldn't stand the thought of a girl so young, lips blue, breath still. He had to try.

June was right though, many denied him at a glance. Asher knew his place, he backed off when told no. But there had to be a place willing, they gave Devin a job didn't they?

Than he saw it. The lettering glowed hot red against Glass. It called to him from the distance. He jogged over, not exactly believing it.

**HELP ****WANTED-ALL WELCOME TO APPLY**

Looking above at the sign he noted the simple yet intricate lettering. The picture above it depicting a bird holding an umbrella. Ice and snow decorating the top, shielding the bird from cold. He read out loud to himself.

"The Iceberg Lounge."


	3. Chapter 3: Help

3\. Help

_Gotham Precinct_

The clown moved his jaw around, still feeling the tenderness from the pig's pistol whip. They were probably choosing a different pig to talk to him in the "interview room". The other one left after a wad of blood was spit in his face. It was quiet since. They were still here, behind the glass where he couldn't see them exactly. It still didn't hide them from him, but he didn't play their game. He just sat there, waiting to be taken back. He wasn't leaving for a while, and he was in no rush to.

The door opened, two more boys in blue entered. Now, the game reset.

"Hey little piggies! OINK OINK!" The dead eyed man became active again. Though verbally demeaning, He didn't move as explosively compared to the others. He didn't have to. For someone that looked like the Brawn of the operation rather than the Brain, he had an expansive vocabulary. It was always great to take the pigs by surprise when they least expected it, not expecting someone like him to have a degree from Yale. He just liked calling them piggies because it was fun. Besides, fresh faces, this was just the start. And then he entered.

You could be a pig, or a clown, you could be a goddamn mole man in the sewers, and you would still recognize Commissioner James Gordon. His shock white hair was well groomed, but showed the stress of a busy day. Gordon carried his duties, his burdens, like the greek gods carried the earth.

Batman fought in the dark, but the Commissioner fought in the light of day.

Yet neither could stop chaos.

The aged cop took a seat straight across from the clown. The latter watched the former quietly as he took his time opening a folder. Gordon made himself comfortable as he seemed to look over the papers inside. He looked at the clown, and sighed.

"So, I heard them call you Bozo, that make you angry? A goofy name like that?" 'Bozo didn't respond. "When was the last time someone used your real name?"

'Bozo' seemed to pause in thought. Making a 'thoughtful' expression with his face, as his hands were still cuffed behind his back

"I'm thinking the last day I lived as a slave. To be honest, my name is anything I want it to be, because names are made up, I can be anything."

The Joker sure knew how to pick them. Amazing what some people were capable of without their medication. Sometimes, medication makes them worse.

"Well, what do you call yourself now?"

"Chuckles." No one laughed.

"Alright Chuckles, Here is what I want to know. How many other 'Jesters' are there? And where is Joker making the toxin."

"Whatever do you mean? I am the 'Jester'."

"You can't fool us, we know there is more of you this time." Gordon took a picture, sliding it towards the clown. "If you won't do it for us, do it for them."

The clown looks at the photo for a long minute. He is seemingly lost in the moment, before his mouth twists into a fond smile.

"Such sweet things, I wonder how they are doing."

"They are still in therapy, after what you did."

"Therapy? Whatever for? I thought they enjoyed the show."

"Jesus Christ, they are your _children_."

"I remember when I was like you, I served a country, believed in a god, worked hard. I thought I understood everything, and then I met..._Him_." Chuckles had a soft, fond expression on his bloody, painted face. "Than I understood, truly, I had found salvation." He started to chuckle. "There is no god, no plan, we are simply chaos."

* * *

Gordon returned to the other side of the glass. The clown had stopped listening to anything they said. He took his glasses off his brow before massaging his forehead.

"Goddammit, why are there only _more_ freaks dressed like clowns?" Bollock had seen the best and worst of Gotham. He remembered an era where a party clown getting drunk at a kids birthday party was the worst thing he'd seen a clown do. After the Bat, and _him_, now it was glasgow smiles and poisonous laughing gas galore. Worse, people were embracing the madness.

"Sad thing is, he's a victim too. Used to have a clean record, a veteran. Than he gets doused by Joker's toxin during a bank robbery. Doesn't kill him, drives him mad. Thing is, we didn't realize at first." Gordon looks where the clown was sitting, regret etched into his features."It was my fault, I let him go."

"We all let him go, including the Batman. We have never made the same mistake since Jim."

"That's the thing, The Joker never causes the same happy accident twice. Letting his lieutenants take the reins like this? They could all be connected, or none of them are. That's the worst part."

Gordon lit a cigarette, he told Barb he would stop smoking. He did, but once in a while, he needed the nicotine. he hadn't had to buy a new pack for months, he saved them for the hard days.

"Somethings going to blow Harvey, and none of us are ready for it."

* * *

Ash took in the deep red velvet drapery and carpet that decorated the elaborate walls of the Lounge's lobby. The overly elaborate area was lit up by ornate lights, positioned carefully to offer clarity ,without being too bright or intrusive to guests. What was most fascinating, was the three separate entrances, each one seemingly leading into completely different area. Each one had a clear title above their respective doorways, but he wasn't even sure where to start looking for someone, the ornate receptionist desk strangely abandoned. He doesn't have to wait long however, as men shuffle into view. The men had the sleeves of their dress shirt up, coats missing from view, as they struggled with black trash bags.

"Goddammit Ben, we don't have all day. Mr Cobblepot wants the place reopened by end of the hour."

"Fuck Will, this ain't easy with just us two. I'm Fuckin security not a garbage boy."

Ash chose than to interject.

"Mind if I help, friend?" The man called Will looked at him, seemingly deciding why the hell not, shrugged his shoulder best he could.

"You know what, sure, take this end for me would ya? Help me bring it to that door, it pushes open." Ash followed the man's direction without comment or conflict. Moving backwards like a part of the crew. He hoped it would help him make a case, without being kicked out the curb. They entered another room where multiple colored dumpsters were located. "This goes in the red one, all of them do."

Ash helped Will move the next load without question, which in turn made the man curious.

"You know the nightclub is closed for now right? Only the hotel and Casino are still formally open, and you don't look the type."

Ash gave a sheepish smile.

"Well actually, I was hoping to speak with someone about a job. I believe a position opened recently."

"Really? Who did you hear that from?"

"The wife of the guy who lost it."

"Pfft hahaha, jesus christ." Will chuckled briefly before composing himself. "Alright, so maintenance huh? Well, you did help me out, let me see if he's willing to see you."

"Who?"

"The owner of course, he likes to interview new employees personally. Certain events have made him.. untrusting of certain fellows. If he doesn't want to see you, I can't do anything about that, just so you know."

"I appreciate that you are trying. One thing, may I know the owners name, so I greet him properly?"

* * *

"Mr. Cobblepot, sir. There is a gentlemen outside looking to apply for our maintenance staff."

"Already? Jesus christ, it hasn't been 24 hours!" Oswald Cobblepot leaned back in his chair. Rose and Lily, statuesque stunners, Massaged either shoulder. Today was a frustrating day for the owner of the Iceberg Lounge, thrice rebuilt, and then some. The man sighed. "Is he a bum? I'm tired of fucking bums, fucking wastes of space in my house."

"He's the cleanest bum I have ever seen sir. Seems straight and narrow too. Might be worth it," It was also too late, or early, for a goddamn interview. Of course, if he's desperate he'll work.

"I'll decide that, William... " Of course, he IS understaffed, and now he needed a new receptionist on top of everything. "Alright, fuck it, but if he doesn't hold up your boys have to do with cleanup duties for a bit, and don't give me lip about it."

"Thank you sir, May I bring him in?"

"Yes, Rose and Lily, you go on back out, get ready for the guests. I have work."

Oswald watched the back ends of his entertainers as they sauntered out following William. Once they left his sight,he stood himself up and stretched, relieved to be alone for a brief moment. The reality was he needed as many people as he could on maintenance. The Iceberg lounge demanded excellency. In spite of his clubs reputation, both it and him were quite intimidating, thankfully the batman has left his operations alone for the most part in recent years, so long as he doesn't cross certain lines. It was almost impressive that someone was willing to come out in the middle of the night to ask for work.

That someone then entered the Penguins office. Usually, people need to have a game face when they first meet the Penguin, some gawk at him before they learn proper respect. The young man that entered his office had quiet confidence, as he came to Oswald's desk, and held his hand out in a formal greeting that few initiate to Oswald.

"Hello Mr. Cobblepot, thank you for taking the time to see me." Oswald in turn, grasped the hand back professionally, keeping his surprise hidden as the man shook his hand without hesitation or disgust. This changed the tone Oswald was planning for the meeting very fast. It wasn't often someone greeted him like this, so kindly, without the sense of hidden contempt.

"You are welcome, have a seat, William tells me you are looking for a job?"

"Yes sir, I heard a position was made available recently."

"You are correct, Maintenance, crucial to the building. Not always a pretty job, but not one for fuck-ups. Can you clean a toilet?" Oswald eyed the young man, analyzing every detail, his composure, his speech, for any mistakes or hesitance. He would beat the next bum to death, with his umbrella, for doping up on the job, he wouldn't have it.

You have an addiction? Fine, but you do **not** embarrass the lounge.

"I can, I am willing to learn what I need to, sir." Clean speech, even tone, polite, proper.

"Hmm good. Listen, I'll give you a trial run. You come here for, lets say, a week. You don't fuck up, you get the Job, sound fair?"

"Yes sir."

"So, what is your name?"

"Ash, sir short for Asher."

"Last name?"

"None." The response made Oswald pause in shuffling his papers.

"Excuse me?" He tilted his head in the young man's direction.

"I don't have one sir. I am, well, I don't know who I am. Police didn't know, so I am kind of in your hands sir." Oswald than leaned forward, arm slouched over a knee, as one eye glaring at the young man.

"You mean to tell me, you don't have no ID, no birth certificate, not even a last name, and you come here looking for a job at _my _establishment?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me, how do you expect me to pay you?"

"Well sir, I was hoping to earn my way up."

"This is a legitimate establishment, why should I put ANY amount of money forward, to help a nonexistent person."

"I'll prove myself sir. I need to help...family survive the winter. People say you can make things happen. I understand I am asking for a lot, more than anyone has a right to. Let me prove my worth, sir." Oswald leaned back into his chair, before putting his hands together.

"You listen to me very carefully. I am an entrepreneur." He made sure the man was listening, before he continued. He clasped his hands together in a thoughtful position.

"I have my hands in multiple investments, some are, more fragile than others. One of them, may help with obtainment of identification. I could help you." his lips curled into a sinister smile.

"However, you understand, that by agreeing to such, that you will owe me dearly?" It wasn't human trafficking, Oswald didn't do that. Maybe an earlier time... let's just say if Cobblepot did anything like that again. His Penguin wobble would become permanent this time.

"Here is how this is going down. I will decide at the end of your trial run whether you are worth the effort or not. If you are, I will forge you an identity, and you will in turn serve this establishment properly. I will require, however, that you work for me for a period of time. I will not have my money wasted, lives have been wasted for _less_. It is either this, or you can get out."

It didn't succeed in intimidating or scaring the man, who smiled and nodded, excited at the new chance.

"I'll do it sir, You will only get my best."

"You can start tomorrow, I'll call William to fetch you."

"The men stood up, Ash once again offering his hand first. Twice, within 20 minutes.

"Thank you for the opportunity Mr. Cobblepot."

"Your welcome."

The young man was than led away by the newly arrived William, who came in toe with a different man. The new face stayed in the room, Cobblepot addressing the new entry.

"You are back quick."

Pulling out a tablet, the yet unnamed man typed incredibly fast.

[New employee? You hate hippies and bums.]

"The guy was begging to clean my toilets, how can I say no? Guy needs me to start his life, that has a lot of potential. Speaking of which, I want you and Candy to see if you can find an ID on our new employee in the system _somewhere._"

Oswald honored his deals, so long as the other half did. However, he didn't believe that gunk. If the guy had dirt, Oswald would find it, save it for a rainy day. If the kid's telling the truth, than he will owe Oswald anyway.

[Are you going to honor the deal you made?]

"If he honors his end and makes himself useful, of course. A new Identity? Fucking cake, I could practically get it done for free, but now where's the value in that?"

[Respect?]

"Don't get smart with me Marty."

* * *

Asher walked back to Duncan's church about mid-morning. He was tired, but couldn't help his optimistic hop in his step. He was certainly planning on sleeping if he could. He hated asking, but he felt liberated at finally getting a chance, instead of being turned away. If he could prove himself, he can work his way up, he could only go up.

He ended up crossing under the bridge where the small communion of homeless live, including the Patterson family. Little Sara seemed to keep herself entertained, with a book of all things. She seemed to like them more for pictures, this one she was holding now had lizards on it. June Patterson sat on the weathered and worn but durable bench, staring blankly. Ash had to assume she didn't sleep much either.

It was Sara's call of him that June turned, Here expression going from dead to a relief, even as she looked worried.

"Mistah Ash, I forgot to show you my lizard book."

"That's neat Sara, your mom like any lizards?"

"No, not really." June had made her way over than, looking over Ash as though to look for wounds.

"Ash, are you alright?" June asked, he couldn't help his big grin.

"Better, I got the job."

" Oh my god. You were gone for so long." She let out a breath, visibly relieved.

"Mommy was worried they'd hurt you." Sara jumped into the conversation.

"Sara-"

"They were actually quite polite. Where is Devin? He still sleeping?"

"His dumb ass shuffled off a few hours ago. I can't even begin."

"You don't need to, he'll come back, I'm guessing he was sober enough when he left?" Probably coming to terms with the result of his falling off the wagon. Devin messed up, but he had enough of a soul to be aware of it. At least, Ash still hoped he was that man, even fallen from grace as he was. Of course, Ash himself could have have been on some high himself, before he came to in a cold alley naked.

_That just doesn't happen, I mean, of course it does here. They have aliens AND demons._

Ash felt tired suddenly, reliving the initial sense of vertigo when he sat at that library, learning about the kind of world he was born into. His exhausted state seemed to catch up to his expression, as June took notice.

"Ash, have you slept since you left? how long before than?"

That was a good question, actually. Ash himself remembered that he was searching the day before for employment. He hadn't had time to rest, yet.

"I was going to see Father Duncan first-"

"Father Duncan will be plenty busy at this time. You need to _sleep_."

"Its daylight."

"Early daylight, you are going to work again tonight, correct?"

"Yes but-"

"No buts, sleep now, come on. Help me Sara." Oh no, she asked Sara to help, now as the girl pulled him along, he couldn't fight back.

"Don't worry Mistah Ash, we have a pillow and blanket for you!"

He was forced into a resting position, The motherly touch June gave him was oddly comforting, familiar. It was his only link to his past life, he recalled how things like this made him _feel_, even if he didn't _Know_. Not always useful, but helped him steer clear of obvious hazards, and didn't hinder his common sense. Sara went outside to play more as June gazed on him for a moment.

"Ash, they aren't making you do anything horrible, are they?"

"Absolutely, bathroom cleaning, yikes."

"I mean, well..." Ash read her meaning well enough.

"No, I don't know if they will, I technically don't count as an employee yet, I have to prove myself to them. Still, I have to try."

_Otherwise I might not get another decent chance at a new identity. At the least, you don't freeze to death._

Ash's eyelids got too heavy at that point. What was meant to be a blink turned into slumber.

* * *

She was sitting at the bar, gazing over the bar absently. It was a seedy little place, probably not a good part of whatever small village she was currently in. She ordered a scotch, that arrived ten minutes ago. The drink sat in front of her, untouched as it first arrived.

Cassandra watched the patrons wander and mingle. She didn't like openly engaging yet. Blending in was well enough. Cassandra learned during her travels, that she was 'pretty', as men and women alike came to her occasionally. She didn't feel comfortable around the men, especially if they were the type that persisted. It wasn't as though she was incapable of fighting them, so much as it was just discomfort. The women were slightly easier, she could hold lengthier conversations with them, even to eventually decline their invites.

Traveling didn't mean so much as specific destinations to Cassandra, she just wandered and took in the people. The life she led had robbed her of world experiences. Because of the League, because of Da-

Her phone vibrated, she pulled it out , activating a wireless earpiece. she looked at the name

**Barbera**

"Hey Cass, this a bad time?"

She typed:

[No, just relaxing.]

"I hope you were but listen..."

Barbera gave what information she had found to Cass. It was the startled yell that grabbed her attention. There were rowdy patrons, they seemed to be giving the bartender trouble. She understood them well enough, even if their accent mixed with a drunken slur. Their bodies told them all she needed to know.

[I have to go, business.]

"I gotcha, someone looks like they need help anyway. I'll send the files to you.".

Cass hung up, and grabbed the neck of a beer bottle as she readied herself for some volunteer work.

* * *

Ash had come to awareness suddenly, he knew he was safe from being late, as light still tried to invade through the tent. He looked at an alarm clock they had scavenged a few weeks back. He still had a few hours of daylight left, enough to see Duncan. He was about to move, before he realized he had a passenger. Little Sarah had an arm around him, her book lay not far. Moving slowly, he adjusted the girl over before exiting the tent.

June was sitting with Old Ed.

"Thank you June, I gotta go see Father Duncan. Sara is still asleep." June had a slight huff.

"Six hours is something. At least you won't kill yourself from exhaustion."

"I'll be fine. Believe in me."

"I believe in you! Just, be careful, Cobblepot is not someone to take lightly."

"In that case, I better be sure to arrive on time."

She waved him off.

He arrived at Father Duncan's church a short time later. The man was in his element, white dress-shirt slightly unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, a broom in his hand. He tended to the hall tenderly, with years of well oiled practice showing. He greeted Asher with a smile.

"Asher, good to see you, any changes?"

"Yes, I may have found a job."

"Really, that's excellent, better than no, but why the 'may'?

"I need to prove myself, since I have no real references. If I impress, he will hire me full time."

"Excellent, what place?" Duncan asked as he turned to dump his dustpan into the garbage.

"The Iceberg Lounge."

Duncan paused his action, he stayed like that for three seconds, quiet, before responding with a smooth "Really?"

"Yeah."

Duncan put his cleaning supplies away, before turning to give Ash his full attention.

"You understand who owns the Iceberg Lounge."

"Oswald Cobblepot." His answer was swift.

"Asher. The Iceberg Lounge has a reputation."

"Doesn't every other place in Gotham have a reputation?" It wasn't a dismissal of Duncan's concern, but the question was real, Gotham had a long history, the city itself had a reputation, and that was before the Batman showed up. That is, if his quick internet search at the library told him anything. Duncan sighed.

"Of all the places in Gotham to be hiring...come with me."

Ash followed Duncan without question. Duncan spoke as he walked.

"The man you are now working for, Oswald Cobblepot? You'll see soon enough that he has his feet in two worlds. What that means for you, is that this job is much more dangerous than they are letting on. There is a reason that place has opened and closed its doors, been blown up and rebuilt. It is a beacon for the bad in this city. I've been able to teach you CQC, but that is only one form of defense. I will not condemn you to that place without more knowledge.

They arrived in the training area, where Duncan walked to a normal cabinet. He pulled out discretely hidden locking mechanisms, before it swung open. That part didn't shock. It was Duncan pulling out a pump action shotgun.

"Father?!"

"Having faith doesn't mean I am stupid, and these walls, they don't stop all demons." He set the pump action on the working table, before going back into the cabinet to grab a pistol.

"Beretta, standard issue. They were standard issue during my service, not sure if they still are, with all the...otherworldly forces at play." He put a hand on Ash. "I do not condone needless violence, but you need to be able to defend yourself. You could be absolutely innocent, not done anything wrong, and someone may still pull a gun on you. I will sleep better knowing I gave you a chance, I will teach you maintenance down the line."

"What about now?"

"You are going to learn what to do if someone pulls a gun on you. Grab the slide, It can't cock back, won't fire."

* * *

With time left to spare, and being on the way to the Lounge anyway, Ash walked decided to stop by the Gotham Library. Despite his somewhat harsh but short time here, he came to appreciate Gotham's Unique beauty. Its beautiful Castle-like architecture set it apart from many Cities in the United States, Even as More modern Buildings are constructed in the ever changing sprawl.

The Gotham Library in particular saw Greek architecture at its entry, with huge pillars on either side of a large Glass Window. Bruce Wayne seemed to thankfully see the value as well, as he had funded its rebuilding personally after... the earthquake. It has gone through some small changes since, the addition of bat like gargoyles on either corner of the entrance.

He enters, wishing to revisit the computer if he can. He only has a moment to wander if the red-head from before would be present, before he saw her at the help desk. He realized, as he walked forward, that he never gave a name, nor did she. At the time he at least hadn't really been given a name. Now at least, maybe he can introduce himself. Father Duncan had taken time to coach Ash in other simple aspects of life, such as proper etiquette, and basic skills, including but not limited to good hygiene. Both while Ash was sheltered by the Church, and when he was Roaming otherwise.

The young man had realized he needed a far better look of Gotham, in all of its parts, its history. He needed to start by connecting with its people. She seemed to be on the phone with someone as she had an earpiece placed. Her voice quietly respectful, but unnecessary in the vast space that was the Gotham Library. She makes eye contact with him, and he gives a brief smile before looking away. He could wait for her phonecall to be done.

Noticing a small set of stairs, Ash decides to explore a bit more of the library this time around. Moving up the stairs, he takes note of the extra rail, most likely for the librarian. It must have cost the library a bit more to accommodate a worker. Still it brought a quiet warmth, reminding him there are people that care in Gotham.

All is not lost, yet.

There was more books on the upper level, but the painting that was hung on one end of a bookshelf grabbed his attention. He took in the colors, purples and blues blended to recreate the night sky bleeding into a dark city that was seemed to pop with red, like dusk. Then there was the dark cloud that seemed to creep out of the city into the night. Or, was it the other way around? The cloud itself seeming made from a pattern...were those bats-

"Excuse me?" His head whipped around fast. Quickly adjusting downward to face the Librarian. The same redhead from before, seemingly as polite as she was before. Ash was quick to respond with a soft smile.

"Hello."

"Can I help you find something?" He would have dismissed her, as she must have had other things she could be doing. But he quickly realized he was still quite lost.

"Um, yes, actually."

"What are you looking for?" He took a moment to think about it, how to best word it.

"I need to look at Gotham's history, anywhere from basic history, its landmarks, et cetera." He believed that was proper use of the term.

"You are already in a good place to start."

"I am?" It took him a moment to note the non-fiction title at the end of the row. He wasn't sure what certain words meant still, at least until they were pointed out.Than it feels like he had always known, he simply forgot.

"Would you like some help?" She saved him the embarrassment of asking himself.

"Yes please."

"There is "Gotham: A history". The latest edition arrived a year ago, so there is a good start."

"Sounds perfect, thank you, um-"

"Barbera."

"Thank you Barbera."

She looked at him, analytically, as he looked over the thick paperback.

"We have met before, haven't we?"

"Yes actually. I was needing to go, and completely forgot to introduce myself." _I__t was a silent blessing that I did.__ I didn't even have a name to give you._

Realising he now had a chance to actually introduce himself, he quickly corrected his 'mistake' from last time,

"My name is Ash, thank you for helping me so."

"Are you a student?"

"No, not at all. I just want to learn about the city I live in now."

"New to Gotham?"

"Yeah," _I'm pretty sure__._

"Any particular reason?" If there was, Ash genuinely didn't,t know

"Well, it wasn't exactly by choice."

"Oh, I'm sorry, you must be a refugee."

It would be so easy to just say yes, leave it at that. But Ash wasn't a liar, he couldn't.

"To be honest, I'm not sure myself." He still had nothing, after several weeks, no memories suddenly clicking in place, no one recognizing him.

"Barbera?"

She looked at him.

"Yes?"

"I...I might have been a bad person, I can't exactly remember." He could have been anyone, anything, and that scared him the most, He didn't know if he was a victim, or a victimizer. Little Sara liked being close to him, but what if he was the type of person she should stay away from? Hell, what if he was the reason for 'refugees'?

He had no reason, to tell this to the librarian, Barbera. No good excuse to drag her into his mess, even indirectly. What the hell kind of friendship was he trying to make by telling her that? It didn't matter, to his shock, she had an answer for him.

"I can tell you, whoever you were, doesn't have to define who you are, or who you will eventually become. Maybe...this is a fresh start."

* * *

The conversation with Barbera relieved some tension in his heart, even if it didn't fix everything, Did he have an ever growing anxiety as the Iceberg Lounge came ever closer? Yes, absolutely, his heart was hammering away, he almost wanted to turn but he didn't. As he came to the entrance, he simply accepted the cards laid out before him. All he had to do today, was simply try.

The lobby was as brightly lit as before, this time a bombshell of a woman was at the reception desk. She had dark skin, and shiny black hair that framed her face nicely. She looked up at him through designer eyeglasses.

"Hello there, I am Ash, uh, the new..maintenance guy...trying out?"

She smiled at him, he was nervous, it was plain as day. Sh

"They let me know you were coming. I'm Candy, but don't let the name fool you."

Further conversation was interrupted by dragging and yelling coming from the Casino entrance area. A man flew out of the casino entrance, landing on his back, before A security guard jumped on him with a nightstick in hand. The guard began whacking the mans body hard and fast.

"Don't you-" _thwak_ "-ever-"_thwak_ "-come in here-" _thwak_ _thwak_ "-again!"

"You can't do this, my fath-" The nightstick struck the man across the face.

"You're daddy is going to send Mr. Cobblepot a formal apology." William walked out of the Casino entrance calmly." As well as a small repayment, the same amount his son tried to use in fake cash to gamble. It will be made, and either way it will be your fingers next time." He looked over to the newly arrived Ash.

"Oh cool, you are here, excited yet?"

* * *

**It has been way too long since I updated this story. I have not forgotten it, life has just been...well.. 2020. Lots of personal stuff, work, and just trying to get through the next day. I can't say when the next chapter will arrive, but I am planning out the story.****Leave a review, let me know what you think.**


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